by Jace Killan
Joaquin nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Or I could buy the cornbread and also buy a put giving me the option to sell the cornbread at a thousand dollars. If the price drops, I get my money back. If it goes up, well, the put was cheap insurance.”
“Alright, I’m following you.”
“Good. Now this is where it gets a little weird. I could sell you a put for a dollar, giving you the right to put the cornbread to me for a grand. If the price goes up, I just made a dollar and if it goes down, then I’m screwed. Likewise I could sell you a call for a dollar. If the price goes up, you could purchase or call the cornbread from me for a grand and if it goes down then I made a dollar.”
“How do you sell a call if you don’t have any cornbread?”
Ericson smiled. “I knew you were smart. They refer to it as an uncovered call or a naked call. When the call option is exercised, I’d have to go buy the stock or cornbread at fair market value, then sell it to you. The beauty of the stock market is that it is efficient, meaning that there are so many people buying and selling, as soon as you want to sell, there is someone who wants to buy.”
“Cornbread isn’t efficient.” Joaquin lifted the piece and took a bite. “There’s never enough to go around.”
Ericson smiled. “They call that scarcity. When things are scarce, or rather, when supply is down, price goes up.”
“So you want to buy my half-eaten cornbread for a grand because it’s the last one?”
Ericson nodded. “Now you’re getting it.”
24
Joaquin, Ericson, and Ranger Rick Anderson rode through the backcountry of Graham County in the lime-green pickup. Joaquin being the smallest of the three sat in the middle trying not to rub shoulders with the other two, though the task was futile. At least they each wore deodorant.
They bounced along a rocky dirt trail, a stark contrast from Mount Graham where they usually romped. Unlike the wooded greens of the mountain, this part of Graham County looked like the desert Arizona was known for, minus the cacti.
They were checking fence. The task hardly required three bodies, but it got Joaquin out of the prison yard for several hours each day and paid a whopping thirty cents an hour.
After following a fence line for about forty minutes, Ranger Rick, as they called him, thought it best to take a detour to the Pima Tastee Freeze.
Joaquin’s mouth watered at the mention of it.
Since Ericson had joined the detail a few months earlier, he’d arranged for Ranger Rick to receive a small amount of cash each month. Not for anything wrongful, just to allow Ericson a little spending money outside the prison. As great as the commissary was compared to prison food, anything made on the outside was that much more.
Joaquin ordered the Green Chile burrito and relished the flavors that reminded him of home, though he probably didn’t recall home cooking accurately. To top it off, Joaquin got a Doc Holiday Freeze. Doc Holiday tasted a lot like Dr. Pepper, though from what Joaquin gathered, folks of Graham County were partial to their version. The Freeze meant it was blended with ice cream. It made for a delicious treat.
Joaquin could put up with the desert landscape more often if it meant they’d visit the Tastee Freeze.
As they sat in the small dining room, an older gentleman entered, noting the uniformed ranger.
“Are you the one,” the old man started, then wheezed and coughed. His eyes grew angry. “Are you the bastard that’s bringing the wolves back?”
Ranger Rick rolled his eyes. “Call your congressman, sir. I’ve got nothing to do with it.”
“To hell you don’t.” The old man pulled over a chair. “Johnson’s lost another calf last week.”
“I’m well aware of the Johnson’s claims.” Ranger Rick took a bite of his burger.
“It’s...We’re at war,” the old man stammered. “Man against beast. A war we won, by the way, until you liberals got involved and thought it’d be a good idea to bring the most dangerous animal back into our lives. It’s just a matter of time before one of your wolves kills a kid. Then what? What if it’s your kid? You’d feel differently about it then, I’d bet.”
Ranger Rick ignored the man, taking another bite.
Ericson looked disturbed. “Sir, do you mind letting us eat in peace?”
“Peace? You think we can be at peace with wolves killing our kids and these damned Muslims blowing up buildings.”
Ericson stood, posturing above the man. “Leave now.”
Joaquin had never seen Ericson this way. He always appeared so passive and quiet, pensive.
Ranger Rick laughed. The man stood and left without ordering any food.
Silence ensued as the three finished their meal then turned their attention to dessert.
“So there really are wolves around?” Joaquin broke the silence.
“Yeah. Several years ago we started building a pack up in the Gilas.”
“Are they dangerous?” Joaquin asked.
“Lots of things are dangerous. The wolves help with the deer and elk population. There’s arguments on both sides and I was pretty skeptical of the program at first, but over the past years there’s no doubt it’s been good.” Ranger Rick took a sip of his freeze. “But a lot of old ranchers think like that old man.”
“That we’re at war with Muslims?” Ericson said in a snarky tone.
“That there used to be a war with wolves. Most of the settlers of these parts came from Utah—Mormons. This was Apache territory. Geronimo roamed all around here. The Mormons settled in and started to farm and ranch. They mostly got along with the Indians. But there were wolves killing their animals, so the ranchers spent years hunting them down, eliminating the packs. They just didn’t see any way the two species could live together in any sort of peace.”
The three cleaned up their meal and returned to the truck to start the thirty-minute drive back to the prison. Though time had passed, their minds were still on the crazy old man.
“It was a different world back then,” Ranger Rick said. “So much violence. Just over them hills...” He pointed north at the Gilas. “There was a bloody shootout...”
“Tombstone?” Ericson cut in.
“No, that was down south by Tucson.” Ranger Rick nodded toward Mount Graham. “I’m referring to Powers Ranch. The Power Brothers dodged the draft for World War One. When the law went to collect the boys, three of the deputies were killed. It turned into the largest manhunt in Arizona history. The Power Brothers fled to Mexico but they were eventually caught.”
Joaquin said, “There’s a lot of violence these days, too.”
“That there is,” Ranger Rick nodded.
A month apart from each other, Joaquin had received two letters, separate from his mother’s usual weekly letter, indicating that his brother and his father had been killed in the line of duty. Joaquin hadn’t told anyone and tried to bury the thought deep down. It meant that his mother was all alone, except for her dad, Joaquin’s grandfather, who had bouts of dementia.
“Did you hear,” Ranger Rick said, “about the attack in France? Thirty-four dead. Sixty more injured. Yes sir, it’s a different world now. Life used to be simple.”
“Like during the cold war?” Ericson said. “I remember climbing under my desk at school, practicing for nuclear fallout.”
Joaquin laughed. “Like a desk is going to help.”
Ericson laughed, too. “That’s just human nature. Pretend like there is some level of control. Just like the markets. There’s no control over what happens, but analysts pretend there is, so they can justify their fees and sleep at night.”
“But back then,” Ranger Rick said, “we knew who the enemy was. We had nukes pointed at them too. But now, you don’t know. There are good Muslims and extremists, but you can’t tell the difference between the two.”
“Why’s that?” Ericson asked.
“Well, some believe the Quran promotes peace and others think it promotes violence.”
“Maybe t
hey’re the same thing?” Ericson said.
Joaquin cocked his head at his friend. “How’s that?”
“Do you know how many Muslims were killed at the hands of Christians that claim to follow a prophet that taught to love your neighbor as yourself and turn the other cheek?”
“They attacked us first,” Joaquin said.
“You mean the towers?” Ericson shook his head. “I was referring to the crusades, but sure, let’s talk about today. Bin Laden was an idiot. He thought that by crashing the towers it’d crash the economy and get the US off Islam’s back.”
“It did a lot of damage,” Joaquin said.
“It woke up the bear,” Ranger Rick said. “It’s the reason we’ve been at War with Terror, whatever that is, for the past decade and a half.”
“Funny thing is,” Ericson said, “the war has done more damage to the US economy than Bin Laden’s attack on the towers. And the US actions have kicked an even bigger bear. Muslims are pissed. They want to live and worship in their own way, and in their own land. They just want to be left alone.”
Joaquin turned to meet Ericson’s narrowed eyes. “How do you know so much about the Muslims?”
“I’ve met a few,” Ericson said. “The more we fight Terror, the more money we spend that could be used for infrastructure and schools and keeping Social Security alive. But the US is hell bent on changing the world to how they see fit.”
“Don’t you mean we?” Ranger Rick said.
Ericson cocked his head then shook it. “No. I’m a felon. I lost my right to vote.”
Part 4
Action
Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.
- Dale Carnegie
25
Owen Mayhew didn’t miss a beat with his spiel when his other phone chimed. He stole a glance. Even though he knew what he was going to see, it still caused his heart to pound with excitement. Nadia.
“I get that it’s a sexy stock,” Mayhew said. “Everyone’s talking about it. But it’s porn.”
“I thought they made household products.” The prospective client lifted the prospectus cover.
“They do. I’m just saying that it’s hype—like porn. It makes you feel good, but it’s not going to get you laid my friend. But don’t worry, I’m here to bring you back to the real world and save your marriage. Jared is an expert at finding investment opportunities whose return is greater than the accepted risk.”
“Like what.”
Mayhew had him now. The doctor had sold his practice and patents for a new type of syringe, receiving a considerable down stroke and huge milestones in the form of royalty payments. The guy would be set. And he’d pay Mayhew’s firm nicely to make sure it didn’t get pissed away.
Jared took the cue. “Sir, based on your risk parameters, we’d recommend thirty percent go into a structured bond ladder. We basically buy a bunch of bonds with staggered maturities lasting up to seven years. We hold these bonds to maturity to generate a real four percent.”
“Four percent? I can make that anywhere.”
Mayhew cut in, “But with more risk. We want to protect this part of your money so it’s around for your grandkids’ grandkids.”
The client smiled at that.
Jared continued, “And keep in mind that we are only talking thirty percent of the portfolio. We recommend placing another fifty percent in our actively managed account. This is a well-diversified fund that should gain slightly better than what the markets afford.”
“So why am I paying you guys a percent when I could do that myself?”
Mayhew expected this question. Many, especially doctors, considered themselves smart enough to do something so menial as manage money. “Do you want to manage a bond ladder?”
“No, but why not keep the fifty percent out and just buy some I-shares?”
“You can do that,” Jared said. “But there’s common sense to our fund. I-shares will get you the entire market. And you and I both know that there are a lot of dogs out in this market.”
He nodded, back in line. “What of the other twenty percent?”
Mayhew yielded to Jared to answer.
“We recommend that ten percent be used to purchase three apartment complexes and one retail sector. This will generate fixed income, but you should get a bit of appreciation in the properties as well. We have a team that manages real estate holdings, and it’s all part of our one percent fee.”
“I like that.”
Mayhew and Jared looked at each other in a mental high five.
“But I want to see what buildings I’m investing in.”
“Of course,” Mayhew said. “And the final ten percent would go into a biotech company. They are on the verge of hitting a homerun in the diabetic foot wound market. There’s only one product that is FDA approved for diabetic foot wounds and it generates $100,000,000 a year. There was another product that received phase II FDA approvals that sold for $750,000,000 and then failed to receive phase III approvals. This group is looking for a fifty million dollar buy in for half the company and has phase II data ready for submission.”
“Is it legit?”
“It’s golden,” Jared said.
“You said fifty.”
Jared nodded. “We’re going to buy the whole thing, take over management, and work other angles. Not just the diabetic foot wounds. There’s preliminary data that it target’s cancer cells.”
The man sat back in his chair, staring out the floor to ceiling window. “That’s a lot of money.”
“It is,” Jared said. “But it’s only ten percent of your entire portfolio.”
“Minimize risk. Maximize return,” Mayhew said. “This isn’t porn. This is real.”
The client scratched his balding head then started to nod. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
“Great!” Mayhew stood and shook hands with the client. “I’ll leave you to finalize things with Jared. I’ve got to run to another appointment.”
Jared looked at him. Did he suspect something? He couldn’t possibly know about Nadia. Mayhew had kept that relationship under wraps. Still, Jared knew a lot. He probably expected some sort of explanation as to this appointment he needed to go to.
But that wasn’t any of Jared’s business. Mayhew owned the company. What if his meeting happened to be personal, maybe with a clergy member or a shrink?
Mayhew stopped in the doorway. “You’re in good hands. Jared’s the brain behind this outfit.”
Mayhew winked at Jared and left. He wondered how much longer the thrill of Nadia would be there. This relationship had already lasted two months longer than any of the others. Of course it helped that Nadia still dug him. Not like Charlene, Mary, or Fatima who all had dumped Mayhew within a fiscal quarter. And the others had grown more demanding of his time. They hadn’t respected his space, his rules, so he got rid of them. But not Nadia.
She was perfect for him: flexible when he needed her and understanding when he didn’t. The perfect mistress. Before Nadia he struggled to keep his worlds separated, which had led to some of the breakups. But Nadia knew of his wife and didn’t care. She knew he had three kids and that didn’t bother her. She behaved reasonably, unlike Lizzy, and she was erotically quirky, unlike Fatima. And a rockstar in bed, giving him whatever, whenever he wanted, unlike all of them.
Mayhew had to be realistic. He’d made a lot of money from seeing things as a realist. And he knew that this little fling, this boyhood infatuation, would not, could not last. After all, he loved his wife, he adored his wife. She was his rock. She had been there in his most desperate times and she deserved to be there in his best times. They had worked hard together to get to the top. Closing this client would be a million dollar commission to the firm—his firm.
With that he needed to celebrate. The first, obligatory call would be to his wife. Back in his office, he used his iPhone and dialed. “Hi hun.”
“How’d it go?”
“Really good. It’s a done deal.”
“That’s great, Owen.”
“It really is. Thank you for believing in me. You know I’d be lost without you.”
“I know.”
“So, you want to celebrate?”
“Hmm. Does that mean you’ll be home at a decent hour?”
“I’m sorry, hun. I really should finish up some paperwork,” he said while texting Nadia on his other phone that he’d be by in ten minutes.
“So,” his wife said, “I’ll leave some food in the fridge and see you in the morning?”
“Okay, babe. I’m going to take tomorrow off. Tell the kids.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Hey, I already made a million this week. I could take the year off.”
“Oh no you don’t.” She laughed. He detested her laugh, full, too hearty for a woman. It reminded him of how obnoxious she could get sometimes. “I want this marriage to last.”
“Yeah.” He shoved the thoughts deep down. “You know us too well. And I know how much you want me to get you that cabin in Park City.”
“That’s my man. We’ll celebrate tomorrow.”
“Okay.” His wife was satisfied and didn’t suspect a thing.
Mayhew hurried out of the office, careful not to make eye contact with any of his associates. They’d want to talk shop or discuss the latest game or ask for help. Mayhew, the rainmaker, had made the rain. Now he could enjoy some of his spoils.
The apartment resided just across the street. He rented it through the company and no one knew about it. His justification to the IRS if ever he were audited, would be that he pulled some late nights in the city and it just made sense to stay there. On those nights, his wife thought he just crashed on the couch in his office and showered at the gym around the corner. That’s what he’d led her to believe anyway. If she found out about the apartment it would be the end of their marriage. Especially if she knew it came loaded with a king size bed and a Jacuzzi tub.
